


Breathe

by ArtificialFlavorz



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, Fingering, One Shot, Sexytimes, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 18:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtificialFlavorz/pseuds/ArtificialFlavorz
Summary: Actions speak louder than words. (She wishes she could hear him breathe her name)Or: Zelda talks too much and courage works in Link’s favor.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [honestground](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honestground/gifts).



> I don’t know @honestground but I’m honestly (puns?) dedicating this work to them bc they’re my inspiration. Also it’s literally 2am & I’m a little tipsy so be gentle in your critiques. Also if anyone knows how to format on this damn site hit me up with that.

It never bothers the princess that her knight does not speak. She finds it refreshing, even-- he makes for good company without a voice. He does not lie, nor exaggerate. He doesn’t get all caught up in the formalities of speaking to royalty. Rather, what bothers her is that she’ll never know quite what he’s thinking. She watches him,-- from her window, when she looks up from her studies for a chance to breathe-- scaling the walls of the castle to look over the Hyrulian countryside and wonders what passes through his mind, what thoughts lie beneath the untroubled blue waters of his eyes.  
He is, in many ways, the only true mystery she has ever known. It in many ways annoys her-- in the way all unseen knowledge does-- as she once knew him better than he knew himself. But it also peaks her curiosity.  
It is curiosity, then, that leads her to open her door that night.  
+  
It’s raining. Link hates the rain-- he’s sensitive to it. The rain and the snow, anything cold-- it gets to him.  
He’s seated on the walls of Hyrule Castle. It’s become his evening routine; he’s got a good view, not quite as good as the Plateau Tower, but a hell of a lot easier to climb up, and the gentle breeze helps clear his thoughts. That evening, however, all he can think about is the rain.  
He climbs down (or rather, slides down, as the cobbled surface of the walls is slick and treacherous when wet) and trudges through the halls of the palace until he arrives at the door of the Princess’ room. The weather and the dampness of his tunic leave him disinclined to walk back to the barracks-- at least until the deluge has subsided--and he is sure, thanks to the golden glow emanating from the crack beneath the door, that the Princess is about to keep him company. He raps on the heavy wooden door twice, and starts when it swings open almost immediately.  
Zelda, he notes, seems happy to see him. Her long golden hair is tucked behind her ears, and she smiles up at him gently, the corners of her eyes creasing upwards. “Link!” Her eyebrows furrow, “You’re soaking.” The knight notices, for the first time, that he’s dripping onto the rug below him, and nods sheepishly. “Give me a moment.”  
Zelda vanishes into an unseen corner of the room before reappearing, holding a fresh tunic and leggings. “I apologize if these are a bit roomy-- they belong to my handmaiden’s son and he’s quite…” she pauses, as if searching for the proper descriptor, and Link carefully takes the clothing from her extended hands, “rotund. Would you like to stay here with me until the storm lets up? I’ve just a few more pages to read and then I’d be happy to sit with you.”  
Link nods, and the princess returns to her desk. He can’t help but watch the way she smoothes her dress against her bottom and the backs of her upper thighs before she sits, nor can he tear his eyes away from how her hair slides against her neck as she leans forward. He stands behind her for a few seconds, frozen in admiration, before remembering himself, turning away as a faint blush rises to his cheek.  
+  
The princess cannot focus on what she is reading. She is intensely aware of Link’s presence, of his measured breathing behind her, cut off only by the slice of a turning page. She hopes he cannot see the light pink coloring the tips of her ears in the flickering light of the candles. She closes the boo before her and turns, purposefully, to face him and blood pools in her cheeks.  
LInk is shirtless, his back to her, and she can see the long, sinewy muscles in his shoulders ripple as he reaches for the folded tunic on the ground below him. “Do the leggings fit alright?” He starts, pivoting to face her, and it brings Zelda some pleasure to see that a reciprocal blush has risen to his cheeks, “If they don’t you’re welcome to--” She breaks off. Welcome to what? Just take them off and stand before the princess of Hyrule completely naked? She can’t say she’s minded the thought-- it’s crossed her mind more than once, the thought of him, in all of his silent sincerity, naked. This is simply the closest she’s ever been to actually experiencing it.  
Link saves her the trouble of floundering for the end of her sentence, awarding her awkwardness with a silent, breathy laugh before reaching once more for the dry tunic at his feet. As if driven by compulsion, Zelda stands and stops him.  
+  
Her hand is on his wrist. He stands, frozen half by curiosity and half by something he would liken to fear, and watches her. She seems hesitant to allow him to put on the tunic she’d offered. She steps back, dropping his wrist, and Link straightens up, raising an eyebrow.  
“Link, may I--” she moves back towards him, closer than before, so that the ends of her long hair tickle his bare chest. Something within him shifts as she tilts her chin upwards to meet his eyes, and he is unable to keep himself from placing his hands on her hips and pulling her closer. “Link?”  
She talks too much, he decides, and presses his lips against hers before he can think better of it. The kiss starts slow, and deliberate, as neither of them are well-versed in the practice, but quickly becomes fast and hungry, with Zelda taking firm control over the situation, guiding him to the chair she’d been occupying just moments before.  
She straddles him, hitching the skirt of her nightdress up around her hips to do so, never once pulling back from his mouth. He can feel her breath, fast and uneven, fill his lungs as if it were his own, and he allows his hands to wander over her now-exposed thighs, the skin smooth as silk under his calloused palms. His fingers find their way to her womanhood.  
+  
Zelda is used to control. In that moment, however, as Link slips two long fingers inside of her, she finds that she enjoys forfeiting it. It is as if the rest of the world has ceased to exist, and all she can feel is the way his knuckles bend inside of her, the electric tingle his thumb causes as he rubs it carefully over her swollen clitoris. She moans into his mouth, thrusting her hips closer towards him and arching her back, and she feels his lips twist into a smirk. It is nice, she manages to think between gasps, to know what he’s thinking of for once.  
She wishes she could hear him breathe her name as she climaxes, everything inside of her tightening and then releasing all at once, but she cannot, and so she settles for repeating his, over and over into his mouth.  
+  
Link slides his soaking fingers down her thigh, slowly, before gently moving the princess off of his lap, standing, and sliding the clean tunic over his head.  
He should be heading back to the barracks. Zelda, still flushed, smiles shyly at him as he bows deeply, and heads out the door. It is only when it closes behind him that he allows himself a self-satisfied grin. Courage always seems to work in his favor.


End file.
